The Last Dragonlord (47 page)

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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: The Last Dragonlord
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Stone. Her outthrust hands touched
stone. Maurynna ran her fingers down the cool granite, then sat back on her heels and pushed the hair back from her face, brushed tears from her eyes. The mad compulsion to find Linden was gone as suddenly as it had seized her.
Shaking with exhaustion, she found herself kneeling before a tall, pillarlike stone. For a moment she stared, uncomprehending, then memories from previous voyages along the coast of Cassori came to mind: a headland, jutting boldly into the sea, crowned with standing stones.
Could it be the same place?
Using the menhir to steady herself, Maurynna rose to her feet and began to explore. There were stones to either side of hers, more than the three that she was familiar with, which could be seen from a ship. The stones formed a circle with a trilithon in the center. It was the trilithon that drew her. Step by unsteady step she approached it, wary at first, then more quickly as she came closer.
At last she stood inside the trilithon. She tried to span the distance between the uprights, but she guessed her arms would need to be half again as long as they were. Overwhelmed with fatigue, Maurynna leaned against one upright; the next moment she slid down and curled up against it, her cheek pressed against the stone. Somehow she felt welcomed, cared for. She could even imagine that the stone sang to her.
She was safe here. Beyond wondering at the strangeness of it all, Maurynna closed her eyes and let whatever sang in the stone take her, hardly noticing when the golden voice in her head joined it.
 
 
It was some three candlemarks before Tasha’s eyes flickered open. She looked dully around her.
“There’s nothing more that I can do, Dragonlord,” Healer Tasha said. She stood up to let Kief take her place at Tarlna’s bedside.
Kief rubbed his forehead. His face was grey with exhaustion. “I understand, Healer. Thank you for your help.”
Linden mindspoke him.
I’ve been thinking—what if there’s another attack on Tarlna? Will Shaeldar be able to respond quickly enough?
You knew about that?
Kief asked, surprised.
I heard him quite clearly, thank you,
Linden said dryly.
It was like standing with my head next to a war drum.
He was rewarded with a flash of weary amusement.
I was thinking that if there is—may the gods forbid—a second attack, you might be better able to fight it—
—As a dragon. You may well be right; if nothing else, it will be easier to call upon Shaeldar if I need to do so.
Aloud, Kief said, “Healer—would it hurt my soultwin to be outside this night? I wish to keep watch over her in my other form.”
Tasha looked thoughtful. “No, Your Grace. The night is dry enough. It might even be cooler in the gardens and more comfortable for her. I’ll have the soldiers make up a litter to carry her.”
Kief nodded. “Well enough, then. I’ll leave the arrangements to you. Just pick out an area large enough for me to Change.”
Panic flared in the Healer’s eyes. “Ah, Dragonlord—”
Linden took pity on her. “Healer Tasha—I’ll go with you. I know how much room he’ll need.”
They went out together. Linden waited as the Healer gave the soldiers outside the door directions for the litter. Part of him felt that he neglected his duty; the other, more logical part, said anything that could get past this many soldiers and an enraged Dragonlord defending his soultwin would hardly notice one Linden Rathan in its path.
Still, uneasiness rode heavy upon his shoulders as he followed Tasha down the hall.
 
 
Balls of coldfire bobbed around the garden like giant fireflies. Linden watched as the soldiers carefully set the litter down. Kief and Tasha transferred Tarlna from it to the featherbed that had been brought outside.
Kief fussed over her a moment more. Then he walked away from the bed. Linden waved the soldiers and the few nobles to accompany them back and moved aside himself. He found himself next to Prince Peridaen who gave him a distracted nod.
Kief stood alone in the moonlight, perfectly still, his thin face stern and remote. Then his body dissolved into red mist. Someone behind Linden stifled a scream and more than one of the soldiers gave breath to something between a curse and a prayer.
A flicker of an eyelid later a brown dragon filled the lawn. Kief stretched his wings a moment before settling himself by Tarlna’s side. He curled his long tail around her still form so that the tip touched her cheek. She wrapped her fingers around it.
“Comfortable?” Linden asked them.
Well enough,
Kief replied. His head jerked up as someone approached the circle of soldiers; Linden heard the rumble of flames building in his chest. Tasha, on her way to her patient’s side, evidently also heard it; she hesitated midway between the onlookers and Tarlna.
The rumbling subsided when the newcomers proved to be Tasha’s two senior apprentices. They made straight for their master like arrows to the gold and began a hurried conference. Linden guessed the subject to be a basket that the worried-looking Quirel clutched in both hands.
Linden’s eyebrows went up in surprise when Tasha let loose with a curse fit to scorch a salamander and grabbed the basket. She wrestled the lid off and flung it to the ground. Intrigued, he joined the others drawn to the curious spectacle.
“You’re certain?” Tasha demanded of Quirel as he joined the semicircle. “You’re completely certain?”
Kief stretched out his neck so that his head hung over the
group.
What is all this about?
Everyone was so intent on the bottle Tasha now held that they ignored the long fangs only a foot or so above their heads.
“Quirel says that this is one of the bottles he regularly uses for Prince Rann’s tonic after he makes it each morning,” Tasha said. “But what’s—”
One of the nobles demanded, “You entrust an apprentice with Prince Rann’s medicines? He’s not even a Healer!”
Tasha treated the speaker to a withering glare before replying, “My lord, not everyone trained at the College of Healers’ Gift heals by magic. There are, in fact, very, very few of us. Quirel is one of the finest Simplers—herbalist, you would say—to come out of Healers’ Gift. Yes, I trust him to make Rann’s medicines. He makes most of the healing potions used in the palace—including the one that cured your dropsy, Lord Nelenar.”
She held up the bottle so that they could all see it. “But what’s in here is not Rann’s tonic. Neither of us made this, nor can we identify what’s in it. And that scares me. Who
did
make it? Why did they? And what is it meant to do?”
Quirel said quietly, as if musing to himself, “Each morning I give Gevianna the bottle of medicine. She gives it to Rann when she gets him up, and later in the day I retrieve the bottle from her.” He paused, licking his lips. “It’s—it’s always washed before I get it back. The only time that I can think of that it wasn’t was the day of the picnic, Healer.”
“No wonder Gevianna looked sick with fright,” Tasha said grimly, “if she’s the one switching potions. And I thought it was just because she’s afraid of deep water.”
A murmur went around the crowd.
“Whoever it is,” Linden snarled, “damn him or her to Gifnu’s deepest hells. They’re poisoning the boy.” He fought down the rage burning inside. To attack a child—any child, but especially one who looked to him … “I’m placing the boy under Dragonlord protection—
my
protection. Tev—get Rann and bring him here.”
And bring this Gevianna here as well—under arrest,
Kief said so that all heard.
The captain saluted smartly. “Dragonlords!” He hurried off, taking a few of the soldiers with him. Prince Peridaen went with them.
Those left behind waited. And waited. After a time the nobles exchanged surprised glances, then worried looks and whispers. Even Tarlna roused enough to notice something was wrong.
“This is taking far too long,” she said, her voice weak and shaking.
“You’re right,” Linden said. “Rann’s chambers aren’t that far from here.” He would give them a little more time.
That time, and more, passed. Just when Linden had decided to go look for Rann himself, Captain Tev and the soldiers returned.
Without Rann.
 
Otter fiddled aimlessly with the strings on his harp as he sat on his bed in the little sleeping chamber. He had a vague idea for a melody, but the tune would not make itself known beyond a few tantalizing notes. A knock at the door was a welcome diversion.
“Come in,” he called.
Gavren the apprentice’s head peered around the edge of the door. “Bard, there’s someone to see you. He’s, um, he’s …”
Curious at Gavren’s confusion, Otter asked, “What’s his name, lad?”
“Eel, sir. He came looking for the captain, but when I told him she’d sailed, he asked for you.”
Now Otter was intrigued. What did the little Cassorin thief want with him? “Send him up.”
A few minutes later Otter heard the patter of quick, light feet on the stairs followed by the heavier tread of the apprentice. Gavren said, “In there,” and the thief slipped into the room.
Eel pulled the cap from his head and stood twisting it, then burst into speech. “I don’t like it, Bard! I tell you I don’t like it at all! There’s summat up and if it bodes well for your
friend the Dragonlord, then I’m captain of the bleeding City Watch.”
Startled, Otter said, “The nine hells you say. Sit down, Eel, and tell me more.”
 
Maylin quietly closed the door to her sleeping chamber. She stood in her shift, back against the door, and considered what she’d overheard. Then she crossed the room and knelt by the bed. A moment’s blind fumbling found her father’s old sword in its hiding place. She pulled it out and tossed it onto her bed beside the gown she’d planned to wear for the guild’s festivities. Maylin ran her fingers down the silk, biting her lip in regret, but her mind was made up. She pulled off her shift.
When she was ready, she went down the hall.
 
“Where’s the boy?” Linden demanded.
The sturdy captain look half sick. “My lords—Prince Rann is not in his chambers, any of the chambers nearby, or the great hall. Nor can we find his nurse. It’s as if they’ve … they’ve disappeared.”
Kief bellowed in everyone’s mind,
Find the boy! Rouse everyone, search everywhere—I want Rann found. Go!
Linden ordered most of the soldiers to go with Tev; only a handful stayed behind to guard Tarlna. Even the nobles joined the search; Tasha sent her two apprentices with them, electing to stay with her patient. Linden debated accompanying the searchers, but knew he’d be of little use. They knew the castle; he did not. But doing nothing was hard. He paced the garden, muscles knotting with tension, Tsan Rhilin a slightly comforting weight on his back, as the search took far too long.
One thing at least he could do. Beckoning two of the remaining guards, he said, “Bring Duke Beren here.”
It didn’t take long. Indeed, Beren arrived at a run, ahead of his escort. He halted before Linden, his face pale.
“What’s this about Rann missing?” he said.
“The soldiers and others are searching for him,” Linden
said. “Duke Beren, tell me what you know of his nurse, Gevianna.”
Beren slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “I knew it. I knew she was up to no good. That’s why I had Beryl—Your Grace, all I know about her is that she came from Lord Duriac’s lands.”
“And Duriac is Peridaen’s supporter,” Linden said heavily.
He neither needed nor appreciated the tickling at the back of his mind. Angry, he lashed out,
Damn it, Otter! What is it? I don’t have time—
You’ll have time for this, boyo. I’ve a friend of Rynna’s here who’s been telling me some very interesting things,
Otter shot back.
They had better be, Linden said grimly. Someone damn near killed Tarlna and Rann’s missing.
Surprise, horror.
What? What happened?
Linden quickly told the bard of everything that had come to pass since the council meeting.
So now I’ve got to wait here while other people look for the boy, he said. Otter—I have to know: Maurynna is out of this, isn’t she?
I stood on the dock and watched the ship until it was out of sight. She, at least, is safe.
Linden sighed in relief.
Thank the gods for that much. Things happen in threes, and to find out she’s still in Cassori would have been the crowning touch. Now—who’s this friend of Maurynna’s and what has he to say? Wait; I want Kief and Tarlna to hear this.
He touched his forehead with the two middle fingers of his right hand and looked at his fellow Dragonlords. Kief nodded; after a moment, so did Tarlna. Linden brought them into the link with Otter.
Go on,
he said.

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